Coming Home
by DarlingILoveYou
Summary: Lily has an incident with water.. One-shot.


Drowning.

I've heard that you're supposed to see "the light" before you go. I've heard the moment you realize you're dying, you feel this ultimate, indescribable, unadulterated high, because you know you're leaving this godforsaken planet forever. They say it's like coming home.

My name is Lily Sophia Evans.

I'm drowning.

And it feels _nothing_, like coming home.

_Flashback_

James Potter is the hottest, bravest, fastest Quidditch player on the entire planet. Solar system, even. Maybe even in the galaxy. The way he plays with his hair, the way he flies, and don't even get me _started_ on the way he looks!

These are the words that have been unmercifully spewing from every girl's mouth, the whole day. The _whole_ _day_. These dumb little girls, with their slutty little skirts, and their ugly little shoes, with their "alluring" little knee-high socks, and their trampy little tucked-in shirts with not one, but THREE stupid little buttons undone, and their bright little bleach-blond updos, have been strutting around campus all day with the sole purpose of attracting the one and only James Potter's attention.

The same James Potter, in fact, who has been asking me out for two years straight. Everyone says it's old news by now. The fact that I'd turned him down fifty two times, let alone once, used to be a favorite topic for the Hogwarts slags. But, now that my record is up to four hundred and twelve turn-downs, it's gotten to be a bit like reruns of what was once your favorite episode of a television show. Repetitive and annoying.

Now, I know what you're thinking. "Oh, Lily wants to be different and say no to a really attractive guy, so he'll take more interest in her, and like her more, while also denying her feelings for him and how attractive he is." But, no. That's actually not it at all.

You see, when I first came to Hogwarts, James Potter was nothing more than a mere boy with stupid glasses. This was when my grade was eleven years old, and no one had even grazed the surface of discovering hormones. The boys all liked him, because he was a pureblood, and his parents went to their parents' parties, so he got around a bit. And, of course, he almost immediately shattered whatever image they had of him - an arrogant pureblood - with his humor and charm. Yes, it's true, even at the age of eleven, James Potter was _ever_ the charmer. Girls, however, were just past the stage of "cooties" you see, so even at the parties, they'd avoided him, therefore he did not make an impression. Most girls, once in school, although past the cooties stage, were far too shy to say hello to a _boy_, though.

Somewhere between second and third year, hormones were discovered. Although James Potter was not the most attractive fellow at the time, none of the girls seemed to mind. Our grade was going through our awkward stage at the same time, so acne and body odor didn't really make a difference, if you were a boy. And by this time, James Potter had blossomed into a social butterfly. And, _boy_, was he social. He and three other boys, were the kings of the castle. The lions of the jungle – at least to our grade. James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew, were the funniest, smartest, cutest guys in our year, and everyone knew it. Anyone who didn't, would be _taught_ to know it. Along with being funny, smart, and as cute as a twelve/thirteen year old boys could be, they were also the loudest, rudest, and most obnoxious. However, to nearly everyone but me, this seemed to be even more endearing qualities.

James Potter and Sirius Black had been friends since the very first day on the train to Hogwarts. While James Potter had jet-black hair that went every direction, Sirius Black had not-quite-as-black shaggy hair the fell into his face at awkward angles, with eyes as grey as grey could be. They were equally loud, and equally wanted.

Everyone supposed Remus Lupin to have a more introversive sort of character, compared to the other two, because he put more effort into his work than the others did. When it was study time for Remus Lupin, he shut himself in the library for hours on end, without eating, drinking, sleeping, or speaking. But when it was party time for Remus Lupin, he threw all modesty, courtesy, and self respect out the window and partied.

Peter Pettigrew, too, was thought to be a more quiet type, because he wasn't as loud. He didn't speak when he wasn't supposed to, unless someone spoke to him, of course. He didn't stand on desks, or make random objects fly into the back of other people's persons. And he did _not_ race around Hogwarts to see who was fastest. But when you got through his outer shell, the boy was a beast. He could beat you nine time out of ten at a game of Wizard's Chess, Exploding Snap, or seeing who could hold Bertie Bott's Fire Hots in their mouth the longest.

The term "Marauders" was used when a person wanted to refer to all of them at the same time, when asking or speaking about them. It was invented around the middle of third year, when the boys began pulling pranks on everyone, with everything and anything they could get their hands on. They thought they were just so cool, running around calling themselves the Marauders.

Around the time the Marauders began, they came up with nicknames for each other. Most people just thought it was some kind of dumb nicknames they designated to each other when they made their little posse. Few others, including myself, knew the real reason behind them.

In third year, three out of the four Marauders, became illegal animagi, meaning they could transform into animals on a whim. James Potter was a deer, so they nicknamed him Prongs. Siruis Black was a dog, so they called him Padfoot. And Peter Pettigrew was a rat, so they called him Wormtail. What was Remus Lupin, you may ask? Well, I said three out of four, did I not? You see, the reason the three of them became animagi was _for_ Remus Lupin. Remus Lupin was a werewolf. Is a werewolf, rather. The other three, finding this out in third year, became animagi to help Remus Lupin pass the time while transformed. It was a very big, well-kept secret, to people that weren't as interested in their mysteries as I was. I was a clever little thing, then. And a tad bit on the nosy side, as well. I started recording when Remus Lupin was in the hospital, because he seemed to get "sick" way too often. And I found a pattern that I'm sure you could guess at. They boys, too, were also missing, wounded, tired, or ill around these times, as well, so I killed two birds with one stone, and figured it all out.

When fourth year rolled around, four, fourteen year old wizards were the highlight of everyone's days. They were funny, loud, smart, and the rudest boys alive. They were mean, they were bullies, and our year loved them for it. Most everyone, anyway, except for me. They tripped people, jinxed people, pulled pranks on people, all for the amusement of others. Any image that people had of James Potter being a kind, little boy from first year, was immediately shattered within the first week of fourth year. They were arrogant, prideful, little pricks, and I couldn't stand them.

Then came fifth year. The Marauders were every girl's dream, especially James Potter and Sirius Black. When you're a teenage boy going into your fourth year of insanely hardcore workouts every single day at five o'clock in the morning, you tend to get a bit of a god's body. Hence the term "God's Bod" that was instantly given to both James Potter and Sirius Black's bodies on the Quidditch pitch. And when they were swimming in the lake. And when they were wearing rather tight fitting shirts. Or really anytime they walked by. At all. Ever. Every second, of every day. They were perfect. Every girl wanted them, every guy wanted to _be_ them. They were absolutely perfect, undeniably sculpted, Quidditch _gods_. Even I knew it. This also happened to be the year, when James Potter started stalking me. I wasn't sure why – still not sure why – but he knew all my classes, when I would be at breakfast, when I would be by the lake, _everything_. And he always made sure he was there. And then came the first time he asked me out.

I was a fifteen year old year girl, who liked a nice looking boy as much as the next girl and occasional homosexual boy, and for all that was good and holy, as much as I couldn't stand the git, he was the definition of a nice looking boy.

However, when he came up to me, out of nowhere, and said "Evans!" very loudly from right behind me, I turned around with a frown on my face. No, I did _not_ like that boy, no matter how many godly features he had. He threw me this crooked smile that's supposed to make ladies weak at the knees. If I hadn't been sitting down, it would have worked. I nodded to him, recognizing his presence, but nothing more. "I've been thinking…" He continued.

I rolled my eyes and responded with "Uh-oh." He really makes it so easy.

He smirked. "I think you should take me to Hogsmeade."

I think if he had said that a large herd of crazed, oversized hippogriffs were taking over the world and killing all forms of human life source, forcing us to start repopulating A.S.A.P., I would not have been more surprised than I was in that moment.

I stood there, staring at this gorgeous specimen of an adolescent boy, absolutely despising him for being so beautiful, with my mouth hanging open unattractively and my eyes a bit rounder than usual. My eyes immediately began to narrow, however, searching his eyes for insincerity. There was none. I didn't buy it.

"Potter," I began, still not entirely righted from surprise. He raised an eyebrow at my hesitation. "Where – Why… For the love of God's green earth, Potter, what's deluded you into thinking I'd say yes?" I finally got out. It sounded like a mixture of disbelief, annoyance, and exasperation.

But what was really odd, was his answer. Without changing his complacent, confident expression, he said "Because you fancy me" like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I – What?" I said, before bursting into laughter. His smirk slowly faded from his face. "Potter, where would you get that idea?" I said, chuckling lightly.

For a moment, he looked around uneasily, not looking at me. But, of course, Sirius had to play his role in helping with pranks, like he always did. They caught each other's eye, James puffed out his chest, and then said, arrogantly as ever, "You can deny it to yourself, Evans, but everyone knows you fancy me. Every other girl does."

Slowly, and hopefully very terrifyingly, my eyes narrowed. I crossed my arms. "I wouldn't _fancy_ you, if you were the last bloke on earth. Your loud, rude, arrogant, and I can't stand you. So, no, Potter, I will not _take_ _you_ _to_ _Hogsmeade_." And then I walked off, only looking back once to see his amazed expression.

Unfortunately, it wasn't amazed. It was amused. James Potter and Sirius Black were laughing at me. Hysterically. I threw them a glare and kept walking. From a distance, I heard him say "Ah, wouldn't a gone anyway, mate. Just wanted to have some fun with her, the prude…"

And I think that's the point when the name "James Potter" became just that. A name. I hated him, loathed him, even.

Henceforth, the game began. James Potter asked me to Hogsmeade every Friday for seven months. I knew he only wanted a rise out of me, but let me tell you, he got it. We fought for months, going through the same pattern.

Then came the day I lost Severus. He had been fighting the unchangeable force of the rivalry between Griffindore and Slytherin, to be my friend, for five years. I'm sure you know the scene. James Potter jinxed Severus, Severus called me a Mudblood, I yelled at James Potter, and I lost my childhood friend forever.

James Potter was a bastard, meant nothing to me. Deep down, I knew he was dead to me forever. Because, honestly, not even his looks could warm him up to me any longer. He humiliated me one too many times, and I was unfailingly harsh towards him. It was necessary.

Sixth year, besides the continuing date offers, was uneventful. He stalked me, and I ignored him. His looks only improved, but I didn't care. Nothing about him mattered to me. Any notice I took of him was in a lazy gaze across the library, the classroom, or the hallway. I couldn't even stir up enough emotion towards him to hate him.

The summer of sixth year, I did a lot of soul searching. I was about to be seventeen, and grudges were overrated. I wanted to let go of all past wrongs of everyone that had ever been unfair. I wanted to ask forgiveness of those that I'd been unfair to. I wanted to be a nice, unprude-ish sort of Head Girl. I wanted my seventh year to be, for lack of a better word, perfect.

So I became reckless. With everything. For the rest of the summer, I went on dates with people I wouldn't have before, people I shouldn't have dated. I did a lot of things I regret in that last month before school. I drank alcohol, went to parties, made druggie friends, snuck out, kissed boys who meant nothing to me, and lied. I called it practice.

When seventh year began, and I got on the Hogwarts Express, my friends barely recognized me. Sure, I looked the same, but the sweet, innocent, sixteen year old girl was gone. A foreigner had taken her place, and her friends did like her. Not at all. They began to ignore her at school, and for two months, Lily Evans had no one to turn to. I was alone. And I didn't like it.

So I took a trip to the Astronomy Tower. And I prepared to jump. That's right. Perfect, prude-ish, prefect Lily Evans was going to attempt suicide. And I was close to it, too. In fact, I was standing on the edge of the stone railing, my shirt and shoes left somewhere by the door, and my jeans rolled up to my knees. I was lightly skimming the pillar to my right, my eyes closed, my toes curled over the edge of the rail. A gentle breeze was gracing my face, my hair was flowing somewhere out behind me.

Then there was a voice. It was like a revelation, an angel. And I still don't know why.

"What you doing out here, red?" The voice asked. My eyes opened slowly, and I looked to my left. There, _right_ _there_, was James Potter. _My_ James Potter. His eyes were closed, a bit more stressed than mine had been, and his left arm was reaching out to the pillar near him. His right hand was clenched into a fist, and all the muscles in his arm were responding to it. He wasn't wearing shoes.

"Flying," I murmured, returning to my previous state. It somehow felt right to have him there. Sure, I was still going to jump, he didn't change that, but I didn't feel alone anymore, and I really don't think I could've done it if he hadn't been there. I was alone before, that's why I was on the edge, and it felt nice to not be alone at the end, even if it was James Potter.

"Don't you need a plane for that?" He asked tightly.

"I guess," I replied, "But, I didn't see any around. Figured this was close enough, more or less."

"I suppose," He agreed. "I think a plane would be warmer, though. It's a bit chilly out, tonight." He sounded as if he were speaking through clenched teeth. I peeked over at him a second time, curiosity winning out over "flying". He had shifted further away from me, or perhaps just closer to his pillar. His left arm had almost entirely wrapped around the cold stone, and his eyes looked much more stressed than earlier. I had a strange urge to show him how I was relaxing.

"It doesn't seem that cold to me." I said, my voice admittedly a bit amused. His eyes quickly flashed open and flickered to me. His eyes narrowed into a doubting stare before he pointedly looked me up and down.

"Really. Not at all." He deadpanned, obviously thinking I was just being tough. Again, I still didn't mind he was there, even when I remembered I was barely wearing clothes. It seemed… natural.

I think that's when I began to fall in love with James Potter.

I caught his eye and murmured, "Fly with me."

He sighed, exasperated, blowing a bit of hair out of his face. "You're completely off your rocker, Lily Evans."

For some reason, this comment made me smile the widest smile my face had felt in months. "Take off your shirt."

He smirked. "Evans, you didn't have to come all the way up here just to get me to-"

"Just take it off, Potter." I said, cutting him off. He grinned before easily shucking off his shirt. Not the first time I'd seen his glorious body, but the first time in quite a while it had actually effected me. He had definitely developed since fifth year. He was an Adonis. How had I missed it all year? His abdomen muscles were perfect. Some would say he had an eight pack. His pectorals were also very… nice. His hips dipped into a 'V' shape. And there was a little strip of hair leading to places that were so ungodly, I couldn't focus on it for long.

"Enjoying yourself, Evans?" He said, smirking again.

I nodded, catching him off guard. I thought I saw a hint of red on his tan cheeks, but quickly deemed them flush from the cold. "Now your shoes."

"My shoes? Evans, this railing is _cold_." Nervousness was obvious in his voice and expression.

"Don't be a chicken, Potter, take your shoes off!" I said, laughing lightly.

He frowned at me, before scooting so close to his pillar, he was practically hugging it, and taking off his shoes. He then straightened out and awkwardly stood, watching me, his arm taught around the pillar.

I reached out my left hand to his right, grasped it lightly, and gave it a bit of a tug. He eyed my hand and didn't budge. "C'mon, Potter." I murmured.

He stared at me for a second, before he pursed his lips and took three little side-steps toward me. "Good," I praised, with a smile. "Now close you eyes."

His eyes got round. "Close my- Now, Evans. Let's take a gander at the situation, here, eh? We've never had the most, loving, relationship, much as I like to say otherwise. We're on a very, _very_ high building ledge. And you want me to close my eyes? I mean, I knew you always took me for an idiot, but everybody has their limitations, even me."

"Potter, you honestly think I'm going to push you off the Astronomy Tower?" I asked, disbelieving. "Close your eyes."

He frowned, then turned into the wind, and closed his eyes. I took a moment to admire, then did the same.

We stood there, flying, for what felt like hours. We held hands, but for some reason, I don't think he was holding it for the same stupid reasons he had wanted to, before. It was for me.

That was the day I came down off the ledge, in every way possible. I never spoke to my "friends" again. They'd ditched me at a time that people to understand, was the one thing I really needed. I became friends with the Marauders. And I fell in love with them. All of them. I couldn't love any four boys more than I do them. They're lovely. Sure, they pull pranks and jinx people, but the pranks are harmless – now, anyway – and the people who they jinx definitely deserve it.

As for James Potter and I, well, I don't really even know what our relationship is, anymore. He's bloody brilliant, at everything. He's flirty, but mostly only to me. And he can be a complete arse sometimes, but he's a complete sweetheart most of the time. And don't even get me started – again – on that boy's body. He's a god, honestly, I've never seen anything like him. We flirt constantly, but he's given up on asking me out. I'm not even sure if I want him to. All I know is if I'm away from him for too long, it's like PMS. I get stressed, irritated, moody. He's like a drug. And I'm an addict.

Which brings us to today. It's a Saturday, and we were finished with our essays, so we decided to go for a swim. Well, James decided we were all going to go for a swim. And when James Potter sets his mind to something, it will be done, usually with me tagging along. So, we rounded up the rest of the boys, and went out to the lake. I had one of my favorite bikinis on, and I always liked seeing James Potter with no shirt on, so I was fairly sure this was going to be a wondrous day. Until I heard all those stupid slags talking about my James Potter and his ungodly Quidditch skills.

"Evans, would you get in? It feels _good_, I promise!" I had been sitting on the edge of the dock for the entire time we'd down here.

"I'm tanning!" I defended myself. "I'll come in later…" I trailed off, knowing he wasn't buying it. Mostly because he was giving me that look that clearly said, "I'm not buying it."

"Just get it!" He insisted.

"Later!" I said, again.

He swam to the dock, and I stood up so that he could pull himself up on the edge. "Honestly, Evans, you're ruining everyone's run." He frowned at me, soaking wet.

"Not for me!" Said Sirius, who was trying to shove Peter's head under the water. I shivered, looking away. You see, I didn't actually like swimming. Or water. At all. Couldn't stand it.

"Ahh, is little Evans afraid of the water?" James mocked.

"_No_," I said, "I told you. I'm tanning."

He laughed. "Well, if you're not scared, jump in."

"I _told_ you, Potter, I'm tanning. I'll get in later!" I said, stamping my foot a bit.

"Hm. You know what I think?" I shook my head, backing away a bit. "I think, you should swim now, and tan later!" He then proceeded to pick me up and throw me over his shoulder. By this time, the others were pulling up on the bank, laughing.

"Potter, no! Put me down, I don't like swimming!" I insisted, attempting to kick him in the… abs. His rock solid Quidditch abs. Darn Quidditch! Darn it to heck! "Potter, _don't_!"

He began walking. Things started moving in slow motion.

"Potter, _please_, stop! Don't throw me in there, _DON'T_!" I yelled. I kicked. It was no use. "SIRIUS!" I tried. He laughed. "Potter, DON'T!" But I was already slipping from his grasp as he shoved me away.

I've never felt so alone. "JAMES, NO, PLEASE!" My hands grasped at thin air, his body already being too far away. I felt fear's steely grip on my heart as I kicked as screamed. But there was nothing I could do.

My back hit the water first, stinging, and I tried to catch a deep breath before I went down, but it did no good. My eyes flashed open, and I slapped my arms around frantically, trying to decide which way was up. Making up my mind that green slime was definitely bad, I did a retarded sort of squirm and my head broke surface. I gasped for air, but I was already back under. I tried again, and I could feel my fingers touching air, so I kicked, trying to reach air, try to reach _something_. My head reached it a second time, just long enough for me to shout "JAMES!" before I was under again. I tried pushing the water under me, but it didn't work, just like I knew it wouldn't. I kicked more, somehow getting disoriented. I felt my face above water again, and tried to scream "I CAN'T SWIM!" before the water pulled me under. I think all that really came out was "swim", though, and I'm pretty sure "help" came out somewhere in the middle. I kicked again, but I was somehow getting closer to the green. I kept trying, but water's a force to reckon with, and I honestly didn't have enough energy to keep trying, especially because all my oxygen was used up yelling. I feel like this would be a good time to mention I can't swim. And that I had never planned on getting in the water.

So here I am.

Drowning.

I've heard that you're supposed to see "the light" before you go. I've heard the moment you realize you're dying, you feel this ultimate, indescribable, unadulterated high, because you know you're leaving this godforsaken planet forever. They say it's like coming home.

My name is Lily Sophia Evans.

I'm drowning.

And it feels _nothing_, like coming home.

So I decided to think back on all the memories I had of James. All through the years. Because, no matter where I am, what I'm doing, what I'm thinking, or whether I've had the worst day of my life, I always feel at home with James Potter.

I feel all the oxygen leave me, blowing out, because I feel like that's the quickest way to go without suffering. Or so I'd heard. But when my brain starts panicking, and I quickly try to suck in a breath, I start thinking differently. Stupid water. Stupid lake. Stupid Saturdays.

When I was a little girl, and I imagined myself dying, I always imagined myself to be finally finding peace, you know? Who wouldn't be peaceful if they were going to Heaven? If I am, that is. But, I guess, when I was little, I also imagined I was dying in a little comfy old lady bed, with eighty years to my credit. Well, they say the good die young, so maybe I am going to Heaven… if there is a Heaven. I never thought I'd be thinking about things this deep when I was dying, either. And I'd really rather it had been a quick process, because this is awful. Not to mention the ache in my chest, but I'm also seeing little air bubbles splash at the water surface and it makes me wish I was up there all the more. Also, I think I may be about to hit the bottom of the lake, for everything has gone dark and fuzzy and… Am I even conscious?

Oh dear Merlin. What about my mum? What will she say when someone tells her I've drowned? Or my father? Or my sister? I mean, I know she despises me, but she's still my sister. And what will James say when he sees what he's done? Speaking of James, why hasn't he come rescued me, yet, the prick. You'd think the air bubbles would've been a bit of a give-away. Or maybe he thinks I did some sort of wandless magic? I wish. Then I could get myself some air. And what about poor Mrs. Jenkins? Who will help her babysit her grandchildren this summer? Petunia's always too busy with Vernon and Rebecca, and she'd never do it willingly anyway… Maybe a new girl will move in somewhere and take care of them. Maybe it'll be a girl who doesn't have to go away nine months out of the year to a wizarding school? One who knows how to swim? One who won't get thrown into a nasty lake by her gorgeous mate that she's so heartbreakingly in love with? Someone who's not dying right now? Someone whose name is Pricilla, even, she's always wanted a daughter named Pricilla. Yeah. I'm sure someone like that would be perfect for Mrs. Jenkins.

Hold on… what's that red looking thing? I thought I was unconscious! What is this crap! Oh, nevermind, it's gone.

No! It's back! Only in the other eye! I'm not dead though… I can't be, everything hurts too much. But then – does that mean I'm alive, then? Well, brilliant, maybe Mrs. Jenkins won't need Pricilla, after all!

"Lily?" Ahah! Sounds garbled, but at least it sounds like something! "Lily, can you hear me, dear?" – then quieter – "Oh the poor dear, look at her, she's blue!"

"She needs air."

"-maybe she's cold-"

"-I'll get a blanket-"

"She needs air."

"-extra sheets in here-"

"-turned into a smurf-"

"SHE NEEDS AIR."

However the voices were garbled before, it was gone as soon as that lovely voice broke through the crowd."

"Yes, quite right, sorry!" And then I was being hit with a spell that made everything feel better. I sat bolt upright, my eyes shooting open of their own accord, and my lungs gasped for air. There were many sighs of relief. And chaos broke out.

"-so worried-"

"-CAN'T SWIM?-"

"-you'd _said_ something, we'd have-"

"-should've seen it-"

"-didn't come back up-

"-so _scary_-"

Too many people were assaulting my ears, and too much light was assaulting my eyes. My brain hurt. And then Poppy was shoving them all out, away from me, and I felt very, very naked.

I tried to speak, to say _something_ to her, but something wouldn't let me speak. I put a hand to my throat, my expression growing alarmed. Poppy bustled back over to me, and quickly reassured me. "-put a spell on you, my dear, that way you can't damage your voice more than you have." The garbled sensation might've been removed, but I was still trying to take everything in, and this lady was just _not_ _making_ _sense_. I pointed at the door.

"They can come back later, if you'd like. For now, you need rest, and lots of water." She handed me a cup, which I promptly placed on a table near me and ignored, snuggling down into my sheets, exhausted.

I slept on and off for the next day and a half. She's taken the spell off me, but I hadn't really tested my voice out. A few people had come to see me, but we didn't really speak, and I mainly just went back to sleep.

"Lils?" A deep voice aroused me from my sleep. "Lils, are you awake?" He lightly touched my shoulder.

"Well if I wasn't then, I am now." I said, rolling over to face the one and only James Potter.

"Sorry. Just figured I'm come check up on you." He said, avoiding my eyes.

"Oh, I'm feeling just dapper. To nearly drown is really eye-opening, you see. Been doing a lot of soul searching." I winked.

"Yeah, well. Just wanted to see if you needed anything." He didn't sound amusing by my teasing.

"No, Poppy's pretty well prepared for injury. I expect she ought to be, though, she is a nurse." I smirked at him, but he only frowned.

"Yeah. I guess I didn't really think about it." He paused for a moment, before rocking back on his heels. "I'd better get back. Transfiguration essay to tend to and all. Don't need to leave it for last minute."

I frowned, too. "Essays? Potter, when have you ever _not_ done projects last minute? Besides, this is the first time you've come to visit, and I'm bored. Sit, we'll have a chat." He rolled his eyes, but scooted up a chair anyway. "How've you been?" I asked pleasantly.

He blew out an aggravated huff of air. "How've _I_ been? I nearly drown you, and you're sitting here, calm as ever, asking how _I've_ _been_?"

"Well sorry to upset you, but if anyway has a right to be upset, it's me, mister." I snapped.

"That exactly my point! Why aren't you yelling at me, or hexing me? Merlin knows I deserve it!" He dropped his head into his hands.

"Hardly." I disagreed. "It's not as if you knew I couldn't swim. Not as if I told you. Wasn't really your fault, but you got all huffy, so I did, too…"

"Merlin, don't you _get_ it, Evans? You could've _died_!" He stressed.

"I understand that perfectly, you git. Now come here." I demanded.

"What?"

"Come here!" He sighed, but stood up and walked over to me anyways. I grabbed his hand and pulled myself upright. "There. Now. How've you been these lonesome days without my company, love?" I rolled his eyes and huffed again, looking away. "Hey, come here." I said again, smiling. He grimaced and looked back over at me. "I don't blame you. Honest, I don't. It's my fault more than anything. I should've known better than to try to lie to _James_ _Potter_."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He said angrily.

"It means you know me too well. Now calm down before I shoo you away." I said, grinning again, before grabbing both sides of his open jacket and pulling him closer.

"Er, Lily," He said uneasily.

"I told you I've been doing a lot of soul searching." I smiled shyly at him. "And I'm really only coming up with one thing."

"Oh, yeah?" He said, looking at me with his beautiful, bright hazel eyes.

"Yeah," I said, before pulling on his jacket once more, bringing his lips to mine.

"Wh-What are you doing!" He said, breaking the kiss.

I smiled.

"Coming home."


End file.
